


Happiness

by ilikeyouxactually



Series: Strung Together By Fate (A collection of Coliver works) [19]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Clubbing, College Parties, Dancing, Drinking, M/M, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:22:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyouxactually/pseuds/ilikeyouxactually
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s an idea I got for a fic while watching the season premier of HTGAWM. While watching the party scene at the end, I got inspired and thought: okay, but imagine Coliver meeting at a party and dancing to “Happiness” by IAMX and Connor doing that dumb thing with opening his mouth and dancing and Oliver being a mess and this is the result. I apologize for mistakes, I didn’t proof it. I was too excited to post. I also apologize if it feels rushed or weird (that’s how I feel) but like I said, I was excited to post so here it is. Enjoy<3<br/>Also follow me on <a href="http://ilikeyouxactually.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness

Oliver really shouldn’t have come out—tonight of all nights. An ‘end of the semester party’ was being held at some frat house, and anyone who was anyone was invited. Or that’s what everyone was saying. The trouble was: 1. Oliver didn’t feel like he belonged to the group of “anyones” who were apparently going to be there and 2. He had a shit ton of studying to do. Being the end of the semester meant projects that needed finishing, papers that needed writing, and tests that needed excessive studying for. The last thing he should’ve done was allow his ridiculous roommates to drag him out of the safety and comfort of their apartment.  


The party was packed, far more people that Oliver was actually comfortable with. Even just having group activities in his classes could make him anxious. Seeing himself as nothing more than an awkward, nerdy, geek, it was hard to have any real confidence or at least not be worried about being around new people. And this place…it wasn’t the kind of packed where it was just a bunch of people and you struggled to navigate and hear anyone who was less than a foot away from you—no. This was the kind of packed where it was nearly impossible to get in the front door. By the time they did get inside, it was worse. It was so loud; his ears were ringing and begging for relief from the ungodly loud music. And it was dark. As if his eyes weren’t shit enough, this just emphasized it.  


Standing firmly at his safe spot against the wall, he figured it best to not move. Any wandering could get him lost or even pummeled in the crowd. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked his messages: nothing. He wasn’t popular and didn’t have many friends. The last person to text him was his mom and even that as a couple days ago to wish him luck with prepping for finals. A tired sigh escaped his lips, shoulders slumping forward. He really should just go home. Being here was pointless. His roommates already left him, and he was just standing there doing nothing when he could be at home being productive.  


Just as he was about to make his way for the door, the song changed, and a figure caught his eye. A male that wasn’t far off, a drink in his hand, and hair disheveled. He’d obviously been drinking already and was probably tipsy if not drunk. But god…the way he moved and carried himself—such confidence and surety. It made something ignite in the pit of Oliver’s stomach. He couldn’t help but stare. The way the dim lighting seemed to accentuate the man’s sculpted features. His facial hair appeared to perfectly and effortlessly frame his face. Whoever he was, he was truly beautiful. Oliver could admire that.  


As his awful luck—or maybe his good luck in this instance—the stranger met his gaze. Eyes dark, stare so sultry it gave Oliver chills all the way down to his goddamn toes. Before Oliver could tear his eyes away, the stranger smiled. White teeth glimmering in the sparse light, eyes even squinting a little. _Cocky and confident_ , Oliver thought, _the exact opposite of me._ He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just offered a nod, gulping down the lump in his throat. But whoever the other man was, decided he wasn’t satisfied with just a simple exchange of looks because next thing Oliver knew he was stumbling in his direction.  


Within seconds, the other man was inches from Oliver, up close where Oliver could see his features so much better, and Jesus he was so much more gorgeous up close. The man’s mouth opened, but Oliver couldn’t for the life of him hear what he had said—he assumed it was “hi.” Smiling in response, he now felt more awkward than ever. Now what? But the stranger was leaning in, and practically pressing his lips against Oliver’s ear, and his hot breath ghosted over his skin in the most tantalizing way it made Oliver tremble. “Connor,” came the man who now had a name in the huskiest voice Oliver had ever heard. Even if it was slurred, it seemed to have been spoken so clearly. Returning the gesture, Oliver leaned into Connor and said his name as best he could without letting his voice shake. Needless to say, he didn’t do very well.  


The moments that followed were a blur, but next thing he knew, Connor was handing him his drink. And really, he shouldn’t have taken it. It could have been drugged. They always warned you about those types of things, but he just couldn’t refuse. Though with some hesitancy, he took the cup and downed the remainder of the beverage. He had no idea what it was—but it burned his throat, leaving it raw. Connor smiled, obviously happy Oliver was going along with him.  


Once the drink was long gone, Connor tugged Oliver into the mass of dancing bodies. His head was already spinning, but he felt so light and carefree, and here was Connor wrapping his arm around his waist to hold him up, and Oliver thought it was the sweetest fucking thing. This guy cared so much about him he was holding him up. Or maybe it was just Connor trying to dance. And yeah, that became so much clearer once Oliver could feel Connor’s hips moving—swiveling—against his own. It certainly didn’t feel like dancing, but it was nice.  


His body was hot, sweat forming on his hairline, but he couldn’t care less. He draped an arm around Connor’s waist, keeping their bodies connected. They soon found their rhythm, moving together and steps just seemed to melt together. Oliver stared down at the space between them, and when he lifted his gaze, Connor was staring right at him. Lips slightly parted, and face glistening with sweat. He looked so spent. A coy smile spread over Connor’s lips as he tugged Oliver closer—which had seemed impossible. But Oliver really couldn’t care less about anything. Connor wanted to dance with _Oliver_ , of all people, and he honestly felt incredible.  


Oliver’s lips fell victim to Connor’s unbearably handsome features, pulling and stretching into a broad, goofy smile, his eyes even squinting. He probably looked ridiculous—Connor probably thought he looked like a giant nerd with his stupid coke-bottle glasses. Yet the other man just beamed at him. The hand on his lower back drifted lower, daringly, and Oliver couldn’t help but panic. His breath hitched just as that delicate hand brushed over the curve of his ass, making him shiver and push back against that beautiful touch, wanting more. Eyes rolled shut, unable to help but just lose himself in everything that was Connor’s presence. The touches got firmer, more experimental. Fingers dragged up Oliver’s spine, pressing firmly in some spots that made Oliver shudder.  


Forcing his eyes open, Oliver was pleased to find that Connor was still looking at him—watching him. Oliver’s lips parted, cheeks burning and undoubtedly turning more shades of red and pink than he could count. Snatching his lower lip between his teeth, he averted his gaze from Connor’s piercing, curious stare. But before he could even angle his head away from Connor, a hand found it’s way to Oliver’s cheek, and redirected his line of sight back to Connor.  


“No… keep your eyes on me…” It sounded like a desperate plea, or a demand. Whatever it was, made Oliver’s toes curl. Goosebumps raised all over his arms and neck and he hoped to god Connor wouldn’t notice. Though something told him Connor _would_ notice. He seemed like a man who noticed things. Obliging, Oliver wrapped his arms around Connor’s neck, keeping their gazes locked, and their bodies pressed to each other. The music thumped and vibrated through the room, seeming to electrify them with its heavy beat. Oliver couldn’t tell if it was the drink, the finally letting loose, or Connor, but he felt so light... like he was on a cloud. As they moved and swayed, it became apparent just how close they were, faces nearly touching. Oliver could feel the warmth of Connor’s breath ghosting over his face, and the sweet minty smell of his toothpaste mixed with the booze and his aftershave. It was so much. But Oliver just wanted to drink it in forever—it was intoxicating. Burning in his lungs, he hoped it would be a scent he never forgot.  


Connor’s hand was still securely set on Oliver’s face, thumb stroking tenderly over his cheekbone, brushing gently just under the rim of his glasses. The look in Connor’s eyes…the way his gaze flicked so innocently down to Oliver’s lips made him want. To feel Connor’s unbearably soft looking lips against his own. He never thought of himself as a daredevil type of guy, but when he was leaning in, eyes shutting, there was no going back. Oliver didn’t get to see the look on Connor’s face before they kissed, but it didn’t even matter. Because once their lips touched, Connor was kissing back—eagerly. How long their lips were connected was unknown. But fire shot through Oliver’s body, making the room seem impossibly hot. Oliver’s hands moved down to Connor’s waist, grabbing at his sides, and trying desperately to bring him closer. Connor wouldn’t allow it, carefully pushing Oliver away. The man’s breath was rough and ragged, and certainly seemed like a good thing. Oliver stared up at him, confused.  


“You—you stopped kissing me,” he mumbled, doubting Connor would hear him.  


“I did…because I _really_ want to go somewhere. And bring you with me,” Connor’s voice trailed off with a hint of mischief that made Oliver’s heart race. He bit his lip, trying to hold back a smile, but failed. Connor was giving him that look, and with a simple nod, they were bolting for the door.


End file.
